Vertigo Before the Rain
by He-Jay
Summary: And so they just scatter far in the sky. As dark smoke, just like your empty, empty words. How may I smile when there lies behind me, a trail of the tears of yesterday and the despair of tomorrow? Let me be as wild as the fire, do not let me down. I wait and I hope till Elpis rewards me with sweet truth.
1. Vertō

This is a gift to a fellow writer in the archive. Not that he's much active now, but consider this a gift I bestow upon you, little non-brother. I have attempted to tailor this to your request, may you be satisfied. Voilà.

* * *

><p><strong>University of Altera<strong>

**'I shall grow and I shall shine'**

"Settle down, class. There's still—(he glances at the clock)—two minutes before dismissal. I could carry onto the next session if we want." He jokes…? Professor Edan isn't cut out for humour, period. Evangeline is the only one that is attentive towards the very end, patiently listening to the last scraps of the lecture.

But Edan is generous today. Or maybe he realized that no one was going to pay attention in the last two—now one and a half—minutes of class. "All right, just this time. Dismissed; see you all Thursday. Those who didn't pick up their midterms from last week can get them right now." He gestures to the paper pile on his desk. "Assignments are due Sunday 11:59 p.m. Late submissions will not be accepted."

What's impressive about Evangeline (amongst other things) is her dignity. She quietly packs her notes and pencils into her bag and walks out. She doesn't allow herself to be pushed and shoved by the eager masses; it's not her style of decency. Then there's _him_, who smashes into a cluster of girls as he races to the teacher's desk—he still hasn't gotten his midterm—and trips over his untied shoelaces that people had suggested multiple times to fix to prevent these sort of things from happening.

"Sorry, sorry!" He smiles good-naturedly. He's lucky to have an attractive smile, or maybe it's just his looks, because everyone he bumps into usually lets him go with a chuckle and a shrug. "I'll tie up my shoelaces later, I swear…"

"You have said that so many times, I wonder if anyone believes you anymore."

He laughs, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe you can make a robot to tie them up for me, Eve?"

She jabs an elbow straight to his ribs, smirking slightly as he cringes in pain. "Just because I'm in Digital Architecture does not mean I'm going to make servants for you. How was your midterm?"

"Oh…that." He attempts to hide his paper. "I passed…?"

"One wonders why you even take this course." She scolds. He passed—she admits that his intellect is average—but it's clear he doesn't apply himself.

"It's Rune Divination! I thought it would be cool, okay? Why're you taking it, then?"

"As an elective, obviously. We have breadth requirements to fulfill."

A student in the Digital Architecture Co-op Program, honour rolls, taking a third-level Divination course for an _elective_; it was Evangeline, after all. That was why she was called…

"4.0! You are the true 4.0 of 4.0s!" He's referring to the ultimate grade point average one can get in college, which is…4.0. Evangeline's not actually a full A+ student—she admits to slacking off now and then; she's human after all–but she does work hard and gets good grades. Anyway, she **hates** that nickname, and he knows it. She shoots him a murderous glare, to which he grins. "Come on, we're supposed to meet them at the Student Centre. Let's go!" He evades her kick, but not another jab to the side. "That doesn't hurt." He taunts playfully.

"There you are!"

"Aisha." She smiles slightly. "How was class?"

"A bit difficult, Chemistry's never easy. The element combinations are hard to master. And you? How was Runes?"

"Better now that it's over." He chimes in. "Let's go get food!"

"Fine, meathead." Aisha sighs. "That's where they're going to be anyway…"

The walk from the Science Wing to the Student Centre is a long one. It's made even longer by his incessant jokes and Aisha's rebuttals; ultimately Evangeline stuffs in her earphones, tuning their voices out in the melodies of music. The thrum of the song is stirring; one of the rare tunes that is simultaneously mainstream and emotive.

…_And so they scatter far in the expanse of sky _

"Teach me the great secrets of the elements, oh master, so that I may pass when I have to take it next semester—"

"Don't you remember the cheating scandal where Chloe got suspended for copying? I don't want to be like her!"

_As dark smoke, dissipating _

"Oh, I see them! That's them, right? Over here!" He starts waving as if heralding a rescue ship.

_Drop to my—_

"Eve! Guys! Come, come!" They've already saved a table, which is good; lunchtime always meant people crowding around at the Student Centre. Plucking her earphones and slipping them in her pocket, she nods and waves.

As per custom, the eldest girl stands up and gives all three of them a hug, wrapping her arms around each of them. Aisha hugs back, cheered by the embrace. Eve hesitates only a moment before patting her back in return, careful not to show how (secretly) pleased she is by the affection. He attempts to wriggle out, impishly complaining that he was being squeezed to death by a "blonde boa constrictor." But he never rejects it outright. None of them do.

"Oh Elsword." She laughs, "It's my last day! After I'll never hug you again."

She resumes her seat, next to Raven. His name's not really Raven; it's a pseudonym. If you are not intimidated by the scar on his right cheek or the fiery glare that is his default expression and ask what his real name is, he would just scowl further and tell you off saying it's no business of yours. Even the professors call him Raven. The only one who knows him by something else is probably Renata, or Rena—the one that's sitting beside him right now.

"So where are you going again?" Aisha asks, already starting to look wistful. "Will you visit us?"

They laugh. Sander—the place Renata had been selected from hundreds of candidates to teach abroad—is oceans and continents away from Altera University. Visiting is out of the question. But Renata indulges her. "Sure, if I can scrape up enough cash for weekend visits. You're chipping in too, right?" They laugh again.

"I'm happy for you. Really. You did well, Rena." Evangeline gets up. "I'm going to get lunch, I will be back."

"You going to get souvenirs for us, Rena?" Elsword props his chin on his hands. "Take photos and videos for us, okay?"

She smiles fondly and tousles the fine crop of red hair. Elsword, the little boy she had befriended by pure chance. Of course, she was only a couple years older, but he was like a child, revelling in attention and lightening the mood. If everyone here was considered as close as family, than he was surely her little brother. "And what is it you want, Elsword?"

"Whatever, anything better than Aisha's."

"Hey!"

"Fine. Anything bigger and shinier."

"Hey! !"

"Just make mine the biggest." Raven loudly whispers to Renata. "You're _my_ girl, after all."

"Hey! ! !"

"Just don't go flirting with other girls when I'm gone." The long-suffering elder teases. "I hear that Serine still has her eye on you."

He shrugs at the mention of his ex. "She's dead to me. You know that." Elsword makes a gagging motion with his hand to Aisha, who slaps at him.

"All right, no cheesiness in front of the kids." She laughs. "You two must be hungry. Go get food, we'll be here." Renata almost always packs a lunch; the others either lack the time or care. Eve usually packs a lunch as well, but every Friday they serve the BBQ Pork Lunchbox, which is her favourite. She approaches the table now with said lunchbox in her hands. Elsword reaches to take a piece…and gets his hand stabbed by a pair of chopsticks. Nobody touches Eve's lunchbox.

"We'll be back." Elsword and Aisha wander off. They walk around, but it's obvious as to what they'll get.

Evangeline sits, waiting. So is Rena. Back home, it is tradition to wait till every member of the family is gathered at the table. Even Raven had found it strange, but after a few tries he understood. So they wait. And wait…

"Eve." Raven jerks his head toward the left. "The guy's been staring at you. Know him?"

She glances towards the direction, a familiar figure darkening her eyes. After swallowing a mouthful of pork, she responds, "My…ex." She spits out the last word with disdain, as if it is poison. Annoyance flares to a boiling hatred, which angers her further because she had considered herself above and beyond such petty rages.

A soothing hand is placed on her shoulder, easing her turmoil. While Renata pacifies Evangeline, Raven stares the 'ex' down. Even with a prosthetic arm, his status as a former member of the gang only makes his sneer more intimidating. The figure retreats.

"Thank you." Eve mumbles. Mercifully, they return, the male with a hamburger combo, Aisha with a bowl of olive pasta. It's the last lunch they're going to have together as a team, so all of them savour it to the last bite. Renata never stops beaming; her cheerful aura is too contagious. Even Raven cracks a smile several times, even laughs when Elsword retells a joke by Professor Edan that is so lame it is actually amusing. They are the loudest table in the Student Centre. They always have been.

Elsword and Aisha will miss Renata deeply. She is the first upper-year they had met who treated them kindly, equally. She has a posture that radiates confidence, but not arrogance. That was why she was endearing to everyone, even the withdrawn like Evangeline and the reckless and brash, like Raven. Aisha actually looks as if she might tear up, but puts on a brave front for her dear friend. Elsword is flippant to the end, mock-grudgingly accepting Rena's last embrace before she departs with Raven to the International Cobo Airport. Aisha keeps waving until she cannot see their car anymore.

The remaining three turn back, already feeling queer with the absence of their friends. But Evangeline knows there will be time to reminiscence later. Her Web Design lecture is in fifteen minutes, and she knows that the other two share an Ethics tutorial in…

"…three minutes."

"Huh?" They turn to Eve.

"You two have three minutes to go to your tutorial. It's in the far other side of campus, is it not?"

Elsword shrugs. "We hardly learn anything. Lentils just repeats the textbook—"

"Do not call Mr. Lento 'Lentils'! We're going to be late!" Aisha yanks Elsword by his collar and begins a strained dash. "We'll see you later, Eve!"

* * *

><p>The bus squeaks to a stop at Élémentelle Boulevard.<p>

"Have a nice weekend." Aisha chirps.

"Yeah, see you Monday." Elsword replies.

She laughs. "No school on Monday for me, remember?"

"Right." How she managed to arrange her schedule so that she had no classes on Monday…then again, her Tuesdays and Thursdays were packed with classes lined up back-to-back. Juggling that and participating in two clubs and a peer-tutoring program, she leads a hectic school life. "Have fun!"

With a wave, she steps off the bus after thanking the driver. The pack of students on the bus slowly empties with every stop till only a few stragglers and the elderly remain. With Lowell, a fellow student with whom attended the same high school as Elsword, leaving at Ruben Station, Elsword has no one to talk to. Clasping on his headphones, he lets music drown out all coherent thought. Twenty-something stops later; he drags himself out to Bladen Street.

He walks slowly—the cold winds that herald the bitterness of late autumn do not spur him to quicken his pace. But it's still too soon as he arrives before the tall apartment that looms over him.

After fumbling for his keys, he gets in the elevator. They should really fix that crack in the ceiling lighting. It fizzles on and off, like a typical horror movie scene. It has been there for almost two weeks now. Would the superintendent do anything about it?

_Ding_. Fourth floor. He walks right, to the fifth door on the left. **413**. He closes the door behind him, checking to make sure it is locked.

He throws his backpack on the couch, checking to see if it has new voicemails. As per usual, it does not. He considers taking out the home phone; it would save a lot of bills for something he so rarely uses. Of course, it is not as if he must pay for them. She makes sure that all his living expenses are taken care of, even with the bursaries and benefits he has as his financial status and her being his only provider.

It is a typical flat. All the rooms are decently furnished; two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, a large window in the living room that overlooks the streets. He ought to be grateful that he is living in such a place as this; he knows others aren't so lucky. Aisha is an only child, yet her parents struggle to pay tuition and other fees. He doesn't know much, and he isn't one to pry too deep.

Still, he feels vacant. There is no impish smile as he presses the PLAY button on voicemail, replaying the five-day old message for the umpteenth time:

"_Elsword. Hope I've sent you enough money to cover tuition and rent and food. How is school? I might be able to come visit, maybe for Christmas._-Laughs- _Tell this sister what you want for Christmas. I think I could get promoted soon, and you can buy…whatever it is that boys want these days. Stay safe, little brother. Bye." _-Click-

She sounds older than he had last heard her in person. Of course, that was ages and ages ago, he can't remember exactly when. He was about fifteen, he believes, when she had last stepped in here. That was when the guest room was actually used, when the oven and stoves were burning, and when, for two idyllic days that he believed that he was part of a family…

He saw her several times after that, he knows. Technology granted meetings through webcams, texting, e-mails, and social networks. But it's not the lack of equipment. She is busy. She is always busy; whatever work she does, it keeps them apart as much as covering expenses. That is why she answers texts or e-mails hours later, if she responds at all. That is why they can never talk on the phone, especially with the time zone differences.

_I might be able to come visit, maybe for Christmas._-Laughs- _Tell this sister what you want for Christmas._

That is why for this Christmas, he wants her to come home. He hangs on to her words like a lifeline. All his friends, they are only together during school. Clubbing and parties are loud and repetitive once the novelty wears off. Elsword, who is never alone in the University of Altera, is lonely in the vacant apartment unit 413.

_N__ū__na, come home,_ he wills his wish to be made reality. _You're the only family I have._

Opening his knapsack, he takes out his Rune Divination midterm and stashes it away. If he wants her to come, he shouldn't show her something as atrocious as that.

Through the right side of his living room, he hears a low murmuring humming through the walls. His elderly neighbour Agatha, also lives alone. She doesn't talk much, but she is nice. Her husband, Amos, died of a heart attack several months ago. Her daughter Aida lives a few miles away, Elsword met her once. Perhaps Agatha is talking to her on the phone, or watching television. Elsword doesn't mind. It is better than cold silence.

* * *

><p>As to why the character's names are altered: It's a modern-school, so modern names apply. <em>When in Rome, do as the Romans do.<em> Except Elsword. Because re-naming him as 'Bob' doesn't give the same edge.

Please don't ask me about job classes, they do NOT matter. It's a normal university, not some academy to test their 'skills'. I dropped plenty of hints and if I haven't been obvious about some characters, then it's clear that it doesn't matter. Next chapter is coming up in a few.

Song: Vocaloid.


	2. Ictus

The weekend is dull. Besides working on his assignments and playing games on his laptop, there is nothing to do. Even his favourite game, Grand Chase, is redundant after several hours of grinding. After eating lunch (Renata was the only outsider who somewhat knew his situation, and packed him several homemade meals before she left) of grilled zucchini and quinoa salad, he settles for a nap. He knows it will mess up his sleeping schedule, but he doesn't care.

On the bright side, Renata has reached Sander safely.

Sunday: the tenants upstairs—the family of five—are being noisy again. If it were the children playing, he would be fine. But he doesn't hear children laughing and jumping anymore. Instead he hears raised voices, arguing, and eventually, shouting and screaming. He doesn't like the sound of adults shouting. It reminds him too much of before—memories of aunts and uncles arguing over whose turn it was to take responsibility of the orphaned children as his seven-year-old sister hugged him, trying to cover his ears.

Stuffing a pillow over his head he pretends that his sister is still here, protecting him from those hateful voices.

He hates being alone. He cannot remember what his mother looked like. But he knows that if he had a picture of her, it would tear him further. He lies on his bed, turning on his playlist, hoping that music will put him to sleep.

The song's intro takes almost one minute. It begins softly, but erupts into a harsh ensemble that clash and simmer into a high-key tempo. It's not a lullaby, but it's as soothing as loud music can get.

_A piece of my memory burnt away, without any trace _

He burrows his face into his pillow…then remembers that Rena said he shouldn't do that; otherwise his face and nose would flatten into a pancake. He shifts till he is facing the ceiling.

_It turned into black ash and scattered into the wind—_

He might have caught on a further word or two after that part, but by the time the main chorus blasts into his ears, he is in restless sleep.

Dreams come to him in distorted and eccentric flashes—like dreams usually do. He is playing with his hero action figures on a porch, when a giant zucchini chases him over a mountain. He stops to catch his breath, only to see the woman he thinks is his mother on the ground, sobbing miserably. He tries to reach her, but a man with hair much like his stumbles into her arms, and then a giant car is racing towards them. He screams at them to run. His voice is silent. Then his sister comes out of the car, asking if he would like some quinoa. Rena also appears, her lips stained with BBQ sauce as she begs him to teach her how to fly without wings.

He wakes up, sweating. The clock says 4:48 a.m. Rena doesn't even eat meat. His headphones are still on. Shutting them off, he lies back down.

Eventually, he falls back asleep, this time devoid of dreams. When he wakes up, he only remembers that he has forgotten to wash the dishes from yesterday.

* * *

><p>With Renata gone, it is harder to remain a group. It's not that Raven is actively unkind to him, Aisha, and Evangeline; it's just that without Renata, there isn't reason for him to be with them as much. Raven's an upper-year as well, and is increasingly busy with his workload and, more importantly, what he plans to do after he graduates. Before, he hadn't even considered he might be eligible for graduation. But Rena's influence must have prevailed, because he is serious about changing.<p>

Now he just nods when any of them see him by chance in the hallway.

After a few weeks, Elsword does the same. Nod, maybe wave, move on. But he still succeeds at annoying the living daylights out of Aisha and earning himself at least eleven side-jabs per day from Evangeline. Furthermore, despite the technology available for instant communication over large geographical distances, Renata sends each of them letters. Actual paper letters with envelopes and stamps. Snail mail. Who would have known?

The letters first start off with affectionate greetings, how much she misses them, the beautiful scenery of Sander and the work she has to do each day. She assures that she has started the hunt for the perfect souvenirs for each of them.

Days pass. Weeks fly, congealing to months before he knows it. Her letters turn from the sadness of their absence to the joys of her travels. She is teaching the children of Sander Village arithmetic. She has even organized community events and charities to fund the building of more schools and wells to provide drinking water. She is working with others to literally change the future of children. It is a "fulfilling experience where I receive so much joy".

As fall goes, her letters stop coming. Whether she still writes to Raven, that is a matter between them only.

Evangeline has made a new friend in Robotics class. Her name is Cora, but she has a habit of mockingly repeating everything anyone says to her. A lot of people don't like her, but like many things, Cora is indifferent to whatever people think of her. Yet somehow, she and Eve get along enough to work on a project together that is worth 40% of their final mark. Cora also doesn't echo Eve's every word as much as the others.

So, Eve calls her Echo.

How does their friendship work? Elsword doesn't know. Every time he tries to tease Eve, Echo shoots him down. Sometimes she burns him so harshly that everyone goes "Oooooh!"

As for Eve, she finds everything mildly entertaining. Even better for her, her ex no longer tries to make a move during class. Can't. If there is anyone Echo is tougher on, it's Kim. As Echo puts it, "Kim can't do jack shit. He's a pathetic coward. Even more than that moron Elsword."

* * *

><p>It's beginning to look like a December. On the mat, his boots are still damp with sidewalk slush.<p>

"Rrr ~Rrr ~Rrr ~Rrr ~"

He looks up from his takeout dinner. It has been weeks since he ate the last of Rena's lunches (cheese and spinach gratin), so when he does eat dinner, which is rare, he orders delivery. His concentration on the fried noodles broken, he picks up his telephone. Who calls at 11:48 p.m.?

[Little brother.]

He imagined this. To see imagination made real? It is unthinkable. His mind forgets how to function.

[…Hello?]

"Yes." He keeps his voice from trembling. His throat feels queer as if he is choked with astonishment. "Nūna, here…it's me! I am here!"

[Good. How are you? How's school?]

The words spill out like a broken dam. "It's busy! You won't imagine, but today I…"

He talks on and on, about things important and trivial. She laughs when he mentions how the professor today tripped over her shoelaces and how a student corrected a mistake she made on the board. She is impressed when he tells her how his grades have soared from _meh _to _wow_, and she continues to listen and listen. He realizes just how warming her voice is as she encourages him to tell her everything. He feels like he is soaring as he tells her of his lame professors, his friends, Rena's cooking, and…

She never interrupts till he says he can't wait for her to visit this Christmas, that he was already cleaning the guest bedroom and maybe even get a tree—

[I can't.]

He wants to believe she is joking. "But, you promised …"

[I know. But it's not going to work out. Didn't I tell you? I've been promoted to Head Manager.]

"You said that would mean you can come home." His hands clench and unclench, a slowing heartbeat.

[-Laughter- If only it were that simple. The economy here is…harsh. I'm lucky enough I wasn't laid off. I've just gotten an important project to lead.]

"…"

She keeps talking. [I can't lose this opportunity, Elsword. If I finish, I can be recognized for once. I might even be able to secure a job closer to home. But I can't afford to lose this.]

There's a short pause, then she briskly resumes. [I'm sorry, little brother.]

"It's okay." He sounds complacent. He can hear her sigh of relief on the other end. "I understand."

[You always do.] Her voice is lighter, as if a great burden has been lifted off her shoulders. [Celebrate Christmas with your friends, okay?]

"Yeah. Sure. Of course."

[Oh! And remember the raise I was telling you about? I got it! Boss says it's advanced payment for the project. What do you want for Christmas, little brother?]

"Hahaha…nothing, really." _I want you to come home._

[Come on, don't be like that. I can actually get you a decent present. They have some good stuff here. Ask, and you shall receive!]

"Aw, Nūna…you send me enough money as it is." _Please don't leave me alone._

[So humble…oh, I know! I'll get you a—unintelligible garbling in background—crap, break time's up! Talk to you later!]

"Okay, later." _DON'T GO…DON'T ABANDON ME!_

[Love you, little brother! I'll be home soon!] –click–

He puts the phone back in its hook. The last echoes of her voice still rings in his ears, reverberating against his hollow, hollow mind.

_Love you, little brother…I'll be home soon…I'm sorry, little brother. I'm sorry, little brother. Be good. Be safe. I'll be back soon._

He collapses on the couch, subconsciously curling up into the corner. He closes his eyes, and through the eyes of a six-year-old he remembers crying and chasing after her, who was leaving to find work. His uncles had to physically restrain him from pursuing his sister's retreating back. He remembers staring endlessly at Aunt Helen's cuckoo clock, hoping the short hand will reach the _9_, because that was when the door would open with her standing there.

He remembers her placating him with apologies and promises to return, with him believing her, every single time…

It gets harder to believe now. The trail of broken promises and ignored tears is difficult to ignore.

It was easier to be merry when there was still something to hope for.

A memory: whenever he cried for his sister, whenever he sobbed for his loneliness and neglect, his aunts would attempt to pacify him with cookies or toys. He wanted his sister. It was Aunt Bertha (a wild woman who sported blue hair and an unhealthy obsession with lizards) who silenced his snivelling with a sharp smack and the words: "Men don't cry, boy. Stop weeping like a little pansy and shut up! You're bothering everyone."

His sister would comfort him, tell him that Auntie Bertha was just tired from drinking too much. Whenever Elsword drank too much he had to go pee. She never said that men didn't cry. She always told him to just be strong.

He opens his eyes, finds his vision a blurry image. No, he's not crying. Aunt Bertha would get angry if he does and he doesn't like it when she gets angry. His sister would be ashamed.

The place is too quiet. He had heard that Old Agatha had suffered a stroke last week, and has been transferred to a senior home. He had seen Aida take her mother away on a wheelchair. The superintendent has yet to assign new tenants to unit 415. The yelling on the upper floor still continues in random intervals.

They run down his face, wet and scalding. He is ashamed to look at himself.

He is alone. He always knew that he was pathetically lonely since…well, he cannot call it childhood. The books he read, they portray the concept of 'childhood' in an idyllic cottage with ducks and rabbits frolicking in the landscape. There is a mother and a father and brothers and sisters all living together in the pretty house. There, he would be hugged and fed breakfast and 'loved'.

He doesn't care about the ducks and rabbits. The canned vegetables and his cousins' oversized shirts and pants of his youth do not affect him. Much. He sometimes wonders how it would be to have a mother and a father, but he can't miss what he has never truly had. What he had was his sister. She was, in many ways, _all_ he had.

Theoretically, nothing is changed. He still has companions in school (that are drifting away), a roof over his head (that becomes so cold) and he has a sister who he knows is alive, through bi-weekly envelopes that are filled with what she thinks is enough to keep him going, to keep him believing that she is looking out for him.

It's just that he can't find hope in those elements anymore. Despair strikes him to the ground in such weak moments. He has always found a way to get back up. This time, he wonders if it is even worth the effort.

On the wall is a calendar. Technically he has no need for them, since his cellphone has that information. But the walls are too naked and he doesn't have little twin brothers like Evangeline who draw pictures every day and insist that all of them should be framed on the walls.

Calendar reads: December XX, XXXX.

Finals start soon. He could endure, at least after the last test. His marks are slowly limping up and no matter how miserable he is right now, he wants to finish this semester. To prove that he was…what, that he is more than what others said he is? Did he really owe them anything? It isn't as if—as if they know him.

Maybe he needs prove it to himself.

He swallows his pain. He would steel his resolve into iron-will determination, anger, and unflagging discipline. Those are better than his insipid gloom and reverting to the helpless pathetic boy he was under his indisposed relatives' care.

He rolls over, accidentally initiating the playlist in his cellphone with his butt. It automatically plays the first song on the _Top 25 Most Played_, its melody seeping from the headphones sprawled on the other side of the couch.

…_what's left are blackness and scars…_

He is too tired to reach over for them. He listens to the muted, fuzzy slurs of the music.

_They disappear into endless dark and break_

_The chaos in my head won't stop now_

* * *

><p>Kitty: You are too polite. My thanks for taking the time to review :)<p>

Passing Traveller: You honour me with your words. I am but a humble servant to my loyal readers :)


	3. Somnium

He no longer annoys Evangeline. He treats everyone with politeness and respect, even the campus outcast Kim. Kim isn't too courteous, but that just makes him look more the ass, not Elsword. He doesn't poke his head into other people's business and gives no reason to be insulted or jabbed. A couple of delinquents in his year sneer at him, calling him "soft" and "teacher's pet", but the insults ring hollow in the face of upcoming exams.

But all he can see now is the miniscule flaws that prevent him from achieving the perfect marks. No. He must perform better. Concentrating on his assignments allows less contemplation for another lonely Christmas. He begins to study in the library and the other study spaces the campus has to offer.

Aisha and Evangeline are at first awed and proud. To them it seems that he is finally maturing into an adult. Evangeline is pleasantly surprised that she has found in Elsword somewhat an intellectual equal, but she interacts with many others, and he is but one drop amongst the ocean. Cora—Echo has become one of her steadfast friends. Elsword is not as close a companion.

His temperance, however agreeable, soon wears thin on Aisha. She only admits to her heart's core that she misses his lighthearted demeanour, that his laughter and puns are more enjoyable than his…quiet composure. She is amazed to see him taking out books from the school library…and reading them! Not comic books like in high school, but…actual textbooks!

She wonders aloud if Elsword has been replaced by a pod person. He only shrugs and half-smiles before returning to his studies, turning the pages of _Penensio's Secrets of the Runes_.

They often study together, even though their courses vastly differ. She often comes in when he is studying, sometimes bringing him a cup of coffee or pastry to keep him going. She stubbornly refuses his attempts to repay the expenses, insisting that she did it out of friendship, not compensation. He is serious about repaying, but she is adamant.

"You have this laser-eye focus when you're studying." She remarks one day while she's taking a break from studying for her Physics final.

"Do I?" He replies absently as he leans back on his chair. "I didn't notice."

She smiles. She's cute when she smiles, he notices. "Of course you won't notice, meathead." She pokes his forehead.

After a few more minutes of studying, she glances at the clock. "Ah, it's getting dark…I should probably go before…"

"Yeah, sure." He nods as she packs up her books. "See you tomorrow?"

"Maybe." She shrugs. "Mom wants me home before dark, but she doesn't know that winter means less sun."

"At least she cares."

"Yeah." She slings her backpack over her shoulder. "Good luck on your exams."

"You too."

It's pitch-black outside as she shivers in the bus shelter. Her mother had warned her to wear a thicker jacket, but she doesn't like wearing the puffy parka that makes her feel like a fat polar bear. It would have kept her warm, though.

She tries to think of warm things. The small apartment she shares with her parents. Her mother's warm hugs and camomile tea. Her father's laughter as he would fling the door open as he came from work every night, booming, "Where are my favourite ladies?" She laughs in spite of herself, looking like a crazy person who's just laughing to herself.

They don't have much—money's still tight—still three exams to go—but she tries to be happy. The cold seeps through her thin gloves, freezing her fingers. Elsword offered his mittens and jacket, but she never accepts charity. Her family never begged for handouts. She would finish her degree. All her parents' hard work, every cent they chipped in for her education, it would all pay off.

-Rrr-

A text? She forced her frozen fingers to pick up her cellphone.

Contact Name: Meathead

[Meathead] 7:35 PM: in the bus yet

[Aisha] 7:36 PM: Nope, still studying?

[Meathead] 7:36 PM: yeah. How long till bus comes?

[Aisha] 7:37 PM: Supposed to come at 745

[Meathead] 7:37 PM: k

She puts her phone back, annoyed. Why would he bother to text her if he was going to reply with "k"? She despises everyone who ends conversations with "k". She doesn't know how to reply to that.

7:39. She wills time to go faster. Oh look, 7:40. A shadowed figure enters the bus shelter. She tried to look uninterested, hoping that he won't bother her—

"Aren't you cold?" His breath comes in a wisp of fog.

Her nervousness dispels as she takes in the familiar voice. "What are you doing here? Thought you'd be studying still."

He sets his bag on the bench and shrugs off his oversized trench coat. Before Aisha can protest that she is fine, she doesn't need it, he sets in on her shoulders. It's quite big. "Just until the bus comes." He hastily adds, stopping her words.

She doesn't argue, because the coat is _warm_. And thick. The coat covers her entirely, and he shifts the hood over her head as well, making her feel like Little Grey-and-Black Riding Hood. The body heat from the jacket gradually stops her shivering. "But what about you?"

"I'm wearing a cardigan." He points to his maroon sweater. "I'm good."

What a liar.

Aisha shuffles to the side till her shoulder touches his upper arm (because screw him for being taller than her.) He has a questioning look as Aisha flaps his coat, trying to make it cover both of them. Eventually the coat is draped over both of them like a bedraggled tablecloth.

"Are you sure you're not cold?" Elsword finally asks.

"Nope." Her face is warm. He has a slender but muscular frame. Suddenly she wishes that she'd shut up and kept wearing the coat because she is way too close to his body. At least in the freezing weather, her increasingly red face can be attributed to the cold getting to her cheeks. "Are you…comfortable?" She manages to ask.

He shrugs, and smiles. He decides to not tell her that the trench coat barely covers his shoulders and upper back, appreciating the gesture nonetheless. He misses Renata's hugs more than he'd admit to himself because physical affection is scarce in his life now. So he has little aversion to having Aisha near him. In fact, he almost likes it.

"It's Christmas season." Aisha turns to face him. "Are you going to have a party?"

_Go celebrate Christmas with your friends, okay?_

She doesn't understand why his face darkens as he replies, "Maybe.", which isn't an evasive answer at all.

Aisha would _like_ a Christmas party with all their friends…but she feels it would be rude to ask. She doesn't want Elsword to feel pressured, after all. And with money tight on the line, she can't risk humiliating herself by getting everyone cheap or handmade presents while people like Elsword can buy people what they actually want.

It's a shallow disappointment if no one in university wants a party. Everyone is drifting apart anyways, sticking to people from their own programs. Aisha is still close to her friends from high school whom scattered to separate universities, and they created a Christmas/Reunion event in their social network.

Yes, that would be enough.

Elsword hesitates to ask Aisha. What if she already has plans? He doesn't want to make Aisha or the others uncomfortable. But before he can get the courage to ask and possibly invite her, the bus rolls in front of the bus shelter. Elsword feels a curious sense of regret as Aisha quickly slips from under the coat and gives it back to him.

"Thanks for the coat, see you later! Good night!" She waves before leaping into the bus, the doors closing behind her.

Watching the bus rumble away, Elsword adjusts his coat as he makes the freezing walk back to campus. It's strange that he feels much colder with the coat fully on him. He could have taken the bus with Aisha, but he feels no compulsion to.

He is alone.

His sister makes sure of that. His music, set on auto-play, begins the familiar melody of the song he has yet to grow tired of.

The Rune Divination final is in two days. He is studying to the point where he literally _thinks_ in runes.

_Pictures inside my mind are also burnt…_

When he dozes off for the second time in the school library (which opens 24/7 during exam time), he dreams. He is in medieval armour and is fighting a blue dragon that yells at him like Aunt Bertha. Beside him is a man who looks like Raven, wielding a sword almost as big as his own. And instead of the prosthetic arm, it's this mechanical limb filled with blades and fire!

After vanquishing the beast, the castle door opens to reveal a woman who looks like Rena, but with extremely pointy ears and beautiful, fairy-like armour. She gestures to a person behind her, and it's…her. She is dressed like a warrior angel, with red hair billowing behind her back.

She opens her arms, and they're very warm as she embraces him, holding him as if she will never let go. He doesn't want her to let go.

She leans in, whispering to him:

_**Time to wake up.**_

"Excuse me sir, wake up." A hand gently shakes him awake. He's wearing dark green, which marks him as one of the cleaning staff. As if the mop in his other hand isn't obvious enough. "I need to clean your cubicle."

Elsword groans, noting that the rest of the library is almost deserted, and immaculate. He looks at his own desk, where books and papers are scattered with dust on the ground. "Sorry."

As the janitor mops the floor under the desk, Elsword realizes his headphones are silent.

He can't fall back asleep. He wishes he didn't remember that dream. The dreams he remember usually become the ones that torment him the most.

His cubicle is at the corner, where the windows are. Through the glass, he can hear the birds chirping. So it is already early morning, then, despite the sky being as black as the ashes that scatter like dark smoke.

* * *

><p>He bumps into a student in the hallway. He feels a bit light-headed as he adjusts his shirt, saying, "Sorry."<p>

"You damned well better be." Kim growls. "Watch where you're going."

Elsword shrugs. He's taken aback by the intensity in Kim's voice, but is saved from replying as another voice barges in. "You're the one who went his way on purpose, _Add_."

Muttering under his breath, Kim starts to shuffle away.

Echo seldom allows anyone to get off easy, especially not Eve's ex who holds a personal grudge against anyone close to her. "What's the matter? Scared that someone's actually firing back? Come here and say something so I can shove it up your man-hole!"

A few people snicker as Kim flees the scene.

Echo bites her thumb. To Elsword she glares, "Why don't you fight back? Put him in his place or something."

"Thank you for stepping in there." He tries for a smile.

"Can't have me saving your ass all the time. Cowards like Kim are like dogs without fangs."

"Echo." Eve steps in with her flats clicking against the tile floor. Her eyes are lit with humour. "Having fun?"

"I thought his name as Kim? When did he become 'Add'?" Elsword asks.

Eve smirks. Now that her pathetic excuse of an ex is the laughingstock of the campus as well as an outcast, he turned from a pest to a fool. "He has issues with his real name."

"Which is…Addie? Adam?"

"Nope, just Add." Echo bites off a piece of her lollipop with a loud _snap_. "Makes him the mother of all jokes in math. 'Add, can you subtract?' 'Add, can you use this theorem to multiply the variables into a division sequence?' Good for knocking him down a peg or two."

Elsword doesn't know much about the relationship Kim—Add had with Eve. She absolutely loathes talking about it, and he senses that it had ended horribly, considering she avoids him like the plague and he lingers around her vicinity constantly. He doesn't think it's right that Add is ridiculed by everyone (even though he _was_ an arrogant douchebag to begin with, it's true), but like many thoughts, he keeps it to himself. "I'll be careful of him."

Echo drops a bomb under her breath: "That kind of scumbag is a waste of life. He doesn't even deserve to _live_."

Evangeline would never say that, but she doesn't disagree.

It shouldn't bother Elsword that much, but it does. Would Renata have said the same about Add, if she were here? She never thinks of anyone not deserving to live, surely…even if she didn't always agree with them…

After the exam, Evangeline and Echo plan to eat a 'victory' lunch together at the _Nasodian Grill_. Eve suggests that they let Elsword tag along (Aisha doesn't take Rune Divination, thus her absence today), but when they look for him, he is gone. A fellow classmate tells them that he seemed to have gone straight home.

Oh well.

Outside, it is freezing rain; sleet. It's the kind of weather where everything is slathered in grey, grey, grey, like the grime under a toilet sink.

Through the rainy, icy, muddy streets, he walks, and wonders, does _he_ deserve to live? What's to say Echo and Eve thought of _him_ as a waste of life as well? And his sister, who always has to send a portion of her savings to take care of a little brother that's been nothing but a burden? Was that she never wanted to visit? Renata and Raven already forgot him a long time ago, he was pretty much dead to them.

He casually looks up into the murky expanse of sky. The freezing rain, hardening to ice pellets, fall relentlessly.

They drop to his face. His song, the chorus, it begins with "Drop to my face", but the singer's accent warps the words a little. It sounds funny, but as he listens on they sound as they should. The harsh syllables accentuate the despair: Deu-rop to ma-i feh-isu…

_Drop to my face__  
>Falling Raiiiiiiiiiiiiiin<em>

His hair is dripping wet as he finally enters the building, punches the button and waits for the elevator. There are more people, and a big truck outside the road loop. Was someone moving out?

_My tears are dry, so cry instead of me_

He enters the elevator, with a man holding heavy-looking boxes. He is too wrapped up in his thoughts to offer the man help. Surprisingly, they get off at the same floor. They also turn right, where Elsword sees more boxes and packages in front of a door…his door? Why his door?

As he power-walks to his door, he realizes that it's not 413 the boxes are gathered at. It's 415. **415**. Someone must have moved in. Certainly it wasn't this noisy when Agatha moved in before. Elsword decides on greeting his new neighbours later, when a tall person springs out of 415, accepting the boxes from the elevator man with hurried thanks. The person looks at Elsword fumbling for his keys.

_Please wash away all the happy moments_

"Are you our neighbour?" The person, a male, steps over the boxes to greet Elsword. A tall man, strange face tattoos, with an interesting fashion statement. Elsword guesses he's probably a hipster man. "It's nice to meet you." He grabs his hand and starts shaking it; he looks overly friendly.

Elsword politely extricates his hand from the man's grip. "Nice to meet you, too. I am Elsword."

"Elsword? Nice name. I'm Cael. My roommate's in there, probably arranging her bedroom or something. Lucille? Our new neighbour's here! Come on! Lucy! Lu! Lu!"

By now, the redhead is done. "No, really; I'm busy with exams right now. I'll come later when everything's settled." He eyes the boxes scattered outside. The noise and clutter are too loud, too bright, too lively; it hurts his head.

Shutting the door behind him, he tosses everything aside and makes a beeline to the cupboard. The medicine box was created when he was sick from the flu and got medication through his sister's instructions via phone. He rifles through the contents: bandages, ointment, cotton, Q-tips…sleeping pills.

Downing the capsules, he crawls into his cold bed. It is easier to fall asleep, now that he doesn't have to stare at the void and wait for fatigue to close his eyes. He feels better when he's sleeping.

_Drop in my heart_

Especially when the world of dreams was so much happier than the reality he faced of cold winter nights, empty fridges, and an empty future.

* * *

><p>Too soon, his dreams end. They're not nightmares. In his dream, he is a hero. He can use a sword to save the world. He is needed, wanted, trusted, and everything else he could possibly want. His dreams morph objects to strange creatures that are called Phorus and Nasods. He doesn't name them that; they just <em>are<em>.

And each time he wakes up, he feels the hollowness of his room and the cruel whispers of silence mocking into his ears. He wants to sleep more.

Because he has finally found a place better than reality.

* * *

><p>Song: Falling Rain by Vocaloid SeeU.<p> 


	4. Culpa

The days go by too slowly. In contrast, the nights go by too fast. Whenever his thoughts hinder his sleep, the medicine gives him that little boost he needs to drift off. He doesn't want to be an insomniac. He wants to sleep. He _loves_ sleep.

A while ago, he had read some post on some site he no longer remembers. It defined sleep as an "open relationship with Death", because sleep was "like Death except not really being dead…having the benefits of being dead without actually being dead." It was pretty funny, he thinks. It's funnier now because of the truth underlying the statement.

Exam season is still on, but he is done. His professors assured him that the marks should appear on his university account in two weeks at most. For him, winter vacation has started.

He turns off his vacuum cleaner. His books and notes from past semesters are neatly stored away in cardboard boxes. The living room is immaculate, the kitchen spotless. Even the tall closet in his room is emptied and dusted. The entire suite is sparkling, as if he is ready to meet important guests.

That is a lie, of course. There will be no guests coming in Unit 413 of 1500 Bladen Street. He's not expecting any, either. His fridge is empty save for a few bottles of water. His freezer has empty ice cube trays lying around. His cupboards only have the plastic containers from Rena's meals, washed and put away till she comes back.

No Christmas Party this year.

Evangeline is going on a family vacation to Hamel, a place known for its water resorts and beaches. As soon as she finishes her last exam, she runs out to the car where the while family is waiting. Her twin brothers yell at her to run faster. She's laughing, and they're laughing. She climbs into the suitcase-filled van and they're gone in a cloud of car exhaust. Echo is returning to Elder by train, where _her_ family is waiting.

Other people, he only sees them by chance and hear rumours. Elsword heard Raven was rejected from medical school and was thinking of going to military college. Elsword saw Raven making out with another girl in the third-floor hallway. Was that girl Serine? He doesn't know, but Raven didn't notice him.

Poor Renata…

He occasionally texts Aisha, but she's probably not for a Christmas party, either. So many of them are gone and with her financial problems and overprotective parents, she wouldn't come. His high school friends aren't friends anymore. Everyone is moving forward with their lives with hopes and dreams and happiness…and he is here. He feels as if he is rooted to the ground while everyone, society is continuously moving past him, leaving him behind.

Elsword can't keep up. He's tired of trying. Leaning back onto his bed, he searches for his pills. It seems that he needs to take more of the, to fall asleep. He has also been feeling nauseous and more tired lately.

It's not such a big deal. It helps, actually, to lie on his bed, thinking nothing, wanting to do nothing. It takes his mind off him being alone.

—_My memories are full of hurt, please erase everything—_

He wants to do nothing else. He closes his eyes.

* * *

><p>Some days, when he doesn't feel lethargic, he can see his hands shaking. He feels like a trapped lion in a shrinking cage, clawing desperately to be let out. He is imprisoned, shackled, and he wants to scream and rip the walls open. But he can't scream. How is he confined when no one is telling him what to do? How is he shackled? People would laugh.<p>

_The lingering faint breath and warm touch—it leaves pain behind_

People would tell him "It's just a phase, get over yourself.", "Shut up Elsword, we have our own problems.", "You're not sick, stop acting like you are."

That's right. He has everything he needs while children in Sander struggle to find food to eat. He shouldn't be ungrateful. He isn't sick. No fever, no cough, no bleeding anywhere. But why then, did he feel like he couldn't breathe and miserable and broken?

Nobody wants a broken person. He is worthless and useless. He's barely a friend to Eve and Aisha. Renata long forgot him. He's a burden to his family and a money-eater to his sister. Why would she want to visit him when all he did was use her hard-earned money? Why did he even bother? How could he be so stupid and pathetic to think he was of any importance to anyone?

That is when he is angry, desperate, and wants to smash something out of a window. That is when he can't stop the trembling.

He can't scream, because then the others would know. They would know just how pitiful he really is. So he silently stuffs his pillow onto his face, so the sounds are quiet, muffled, and meaningless. He is too weak. He cannot do this. He reaches for his medication, a big gulp, and blessed silence will take over.

His pillow is always dry.

* * *

><p>The telephone rings and rings, but he doesn't answer. Mechanically he takes another bite of pizza. He hardly leaves the house anymore and the delivery people see him so frequently that they recognize him. The pizza tastes like shit.<p>

The door knocks from time to time. If it's not the delivery guys, he doesn't open.

He almost forgot to pay the month's rent. His superintendent's extremely crabby about it, subtly warning him the consequences of another case of tardiness. With a blank nod, Elsword trudges up the stairs. He used to detest the stairs, because the walk was endlessly tiring and the lack of windows and lights made it look like stairs for jails. Now, like all other things, he stops caring. Less people take the stairs anyway.

Marks are up from the finals. He clicks his mouse, looking at the screen with an empty expression. He passed, but the grades aren't as high as he hoped they would be. 72. 68. 75. 77.

He closes his laptop. He needs more sleeping pills. But it is cold and slushy outside.

In the end, the impact of withdrawal is too much to handle. He throws on a hoodie and slogs out the door. He doesn't like going outside; the weather reflects his mood too accurately.

When he comes back, his hoodie is sopping wet. He also bought other worthless stuff from the pharmacy so as to look like an average shopper with a small insomnia problem—not a depressed angsty teen addict loser. Because that's not what he is, right?

Canned soup, TV dinners, candy bars, and frozen waffles; he throws them all in the freezer.

Soon enough, he falls to bed, eyes drifting. The meds are better now. The dull ring of the telephone rings on deaf ears as his eyes, smudged with dark circles and eyebags, finally close.

_And so my __body sinks_

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

_Into the dark abyss_

[-Laughter in the background- Hey, little brother! Ignoring my calls, are you? -male voice shouts indistinctly- Busy with exams, I get it. Hope you're enjoying Christmas without me. (To someone else: Okay, Aren! I'm coming!) Bye! -click-]

_Only a fleeting moment of love and despair_

* * *

><p>It becomes more difficult to breathe. Several times he has to stop and rest, taking a few moments for his head to clear and the world to stop spinning.<p>

He listens to his sister's voicemail, expression unchanged. He deletes it right after.

Spending Christmas alone means fewer presents to give. Well, he still has to give his gift to Aisha. He refuses to let the coffees and food she bought him go completely unpaid. He won't leave any unsettled business behind.

[Hello?]

"It's me."

[I have caller ID, Meathead. I know it's you. What's up?]

"Are…are you free tomorrow?"

[I…oh. Um, I have plans with my high school friends…sorry!]

"No, it's fine. I just wanted to give you your Christmas present. Can I just give it to you and go?"

[Oh, Elsword! You didn't have to give me a present! I didn't even…get you one…]

"Ha, you don't need to. Think of it as payment for coffee. Where are you going tomorrow?"

[It's…it's really busy for me tomorrow…how about I quickly stop by your place? 1500 Bladen Street, right? Can I come around 11?]

"Sure."

[Thanks! You sound really tired. Are you okay?]

"Yeah, just tired."

[Go get some sleep, Meathead. See ya!]

_Countless days have passed  
><em>_Drop to my face_

"Yeah." He mutters into the silent phone. "See you."

* * *

><p>"Meathead, what <em>happened<em> to you?"

His head is a shaggy red mess. His eyebags have eyebags and his dark circles are a fright. Aisha didn't know it was possible but he is skinnier than before. She's a little jealous that he is skinnier than her, but his face is haggard. He's a mess. He looks more dead than alive. What had happened during the past weeks?

She is still gaping at him as he hands her a Christmas gift bag, the present wrapped inside. His smile looks broken, but he is courteous and respectful, as always. "Just stress."

Aisha refuses his bullshit. "Stress doesn't turn you into a walking corpse! Did you go see a doctor? How about medicine?"

He shrugs off her concerns. Aisha doesn't know what to do. If Renata were here, she'd know. But Aisha doesn't…do hugs. And she's not like Rena, who knows just exactly what to say. Perhaps she could talk to Elsword later?

"…Thanks for the gift." She feels incredibly guilty for not getting him one. "What do you want? It's only fair."

He shakes his head. "Enjoy your Holidays. Have fun with your friends." He turns to go back inside.

Something nudges Aisha, telling her to stop him, try to comfort him. He wasn't coughing did he have a fever? But she's already running late and she doesn't want to keep her friends waiting. "You too!" She yells. Yes, she can talk to him later. Maybe even hang out sometime during vacation. "Get well soon!"

"I will." He mumbles to himself.

_With great effort I looked at the falling raindrops_

He's almost scared. But despair, hopelessness…they're greater than the fear. He wishes he was stronger. He knows that wishes don't do anything.

He was already broken a long time ago.

Outside, it is cloudy. It will rain soon.

He remembers looking down his balcony, that queer, thrilling feeling as he looked at the tiny people and landscape below him. It was a falling sensation that made his heart skip a beat and his stomach jolt a little. Someone told him there was a word to define such an intangible sensation. What was it called, vertical? No. **Vertigo**. It was called vertigo. That peculiar, funny feeling as if he were about to fall. He feels it nowl is it because this time, he is truly about to fall away?

Elsword used to shudder at the mere thought. Now he is not afraid. That is what he tells himself. He opens the closet door.

_My memories are full of hurt, please wash away everything_

Now.

* * *

><p>It's the season of giving, which would explain why I'm updating this more sooner than I thought I'd finish.<p> 


	5. Paenitere

One of the few series that I've wrapped up quite well (one of the few stories I properly finished, more like.) And so my gift to my little non-brother is complete with this chapter, wrapped and trimmed with lace plus a silk bow on top, figuratively speaking; amuse-toi bien! (J'aime parler français.)

**Yuuya : **There will be hints, yes, but nothing solid. It's the end, after all.

* * *

><p><em>Evening<em>

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

[Meathead, it's me. You weren't picking up your cellphone, so...here I am! Thanks so much for the gift, I like it a lot! I'm sorry I couldn't—I mean, well—call me back, we have to hang out before next semester starts again. Food's on me!]

* * *

><p><em>Few Days<em>

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

[Still with the exams, little brother? Hope you're acing them. Did you get my gift? Hoping you'll love it. Call me when you can; this sister misses you always. Love you, little brother.]

* * *

><p><em>A Little Over A Week<em>

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

[Elsword darling, it's me...Aunt Helen. Just wanted to wish you a Merry Early Christmas...and...our door is always open.]

* * *

><p><em>More Than A Week But Less Than Two<em>

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

[Congratulations! Your phone number has been chosen to receive $2,500 travel dollars. To accept this prize, please press one.]

* * *

><p><em>Almost Two Weeks<em>

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

[Yo, Elsword! The –kssh kssh kssh– phone has shitty service –ksssh–call me, brutha!]

* * *

><p><em>Two Weeks On The Dot<em>

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

[Meathead? Elsword? I guess you must be busy...Christmas with family and all, right? Just...call me...when you have time, I mean...bye.]

* * *

><p><em>After Two Weeks...<em>

[Hey, you've reached Elsword Sieghart! I'm currently busy, and I'll take your call as soon as I can. Please leave a message after; I'll get back to you ASAP! –Beep–]

[Little brother, it's not like you to not answer. Come on, I have some big news that you're gonna like.]

[Elsword? Are you sick or something? I _told_ you to get some medicine...]

[Fine, fine, I'll just tell you. I'm engaged! I wanted to keep it a surprise for you. I guess I kinda gave it away giving you a plane ticket to come over here for summer—but now it's official! You'll love Aren. Can you be a groomsman?]

[Why aren't you answering, you dumbass? Answer the phone already!]

…

-MAXIMUM NUMBER OF VOICEMAILS HAVE BEEN REACHED-

* * *

><p>The slush rain's gone. Instead, a great flurry of snow's been falling since dawn and it doesn't look like it will stop anytime soon. AWP News (Altera Weather Ponggos) predicts that it would abate at midnight. From the windows, it's like a screen from a fizzy television, because the snowfall is that thick. It's like those winter commercials where children would dance around, catching snowflakes with their tongues.<p>

He rolls over, dazed. It's so _white_. Maybe if he could sleep a little more…

**BANG BANG BANG BANG**

"Altera Police! Open the door! This is police!"

He jolts, terrified. He hurries out of his room, where his front door is getting hammered. Literally. "Open the door, Sir!"

"I didn't do anything wrong, I swear!" He cowers, covering his head as he feels another spell of dizziness coming on. "I'm not a criminal!"

Was it because of his pills? Some university students did drugs, sure, but he saw worse from the guys that lived on campus residence. They did Alterasian Spores to get high, unlimited booze, one even did Drosera Powder! And sleeping pills aren't illegal! He was only using them to sleep! He can't get arrested for this!

Before he can open the door and explain, he hears a set of keys jangling. Voices murmur, keys jangle, the lock turns, clicks. The door is flung wide open.

He is dumbfounded. Isn't this a violation of his privacy or something? He wants to protest at the entourage gathered outside: two police officers, his crabby old superintendent (that explains how they unlocked his door), and…Cael? He recognizes the hipster hair, those ridiculous clothes. Beside him is a short woman who looks like a little girl with garish makeup and equally flamboyant dress.

Before he can protest and ask what was going on, an officer looks around, mumbling. "Barely looks like anyone's living here."

"I'm telling you, there is! The quiet ones are always the one you have to watch out for." The superintendent whines.

"Is…is he all right?" The girl-like creature steps into 413, but the other officer stops her. "Smells funny…"

"Do not enter, ma'am. My partner and I will check the surroundings; see if we can find clues. Thank you for informing your concerns of your neighbour."

"We've done what we could, Lu." Cael consoles her. "Let's go back now."

The older officer has a steady hand on her gun. "Single male, living alone? No roommates?"

He is outraged. But they barely look at him as they search the living room, shaking the couch, and opening his fridge. Why are they ignoring him? He follows them, grumbling.

"Canned soup in the freezer?" She (the officer) mutters. "Waffles?"

"I was too lazy to sort them out properly." He mumbles. "I was tired…"

"Ugh, dust everywhere." The second officer complains. "This is an asthmatic's worst nightmare. And whew! The stench!"

"It wasn't like I was expecting to have the police over." He snaps back. "Are you guys listening to me?"

They're not. They carefully rift through everything, opening every door, capturing every detail. From the tones of their voices they can find nothing good…till they reach his bedroom.

"Okay, this place stinks."

"The room must be source of it. Young folks can be up to anything. Be on your guard."

The two officers carefully open the door. Bed. Desk. Chair. Closet.

Bed is ruffled and untidy; looks unwashed. Desk is littered with papers and medicine bottles. Chair is overturned to the side, heaped with dust like snow. And the closet…it creaks open.

The younger officer clamps his hand over his mouth, muffling his gags. The elder is more composed, but her look is of bitter understanding. "Poor bastard." She shakes her head, lightly closing the closet door. "That explains why he hasn't answered to any calls…"

"What? What's in my closet?" He demands the police, but their backs are turned to him, blocking his view. "What's going on? What happened to my closet?"

The two police officers shut the closet door and exit his bedroom, the elder muttering, "The poor bastard." Hushed voices converse at the front door, and the superintendent's expression drops from petulant to absolutely horrified.

He is frustrated. The police breaks into his home, how can they leave without giving him any answers? He groans in relief as they exit, closing the door firmly behind them. He rushes to the closet, dreading what could be in there that frightened the police force away…

He can't open the closet. Is it locked? He instead peeks through the crevice; it's dark, so he can't make out the finer details. There seems to be something hanging there. A long coat, perhaps?

He steps back, looking at his hands. They're so _white_.

* * *

><p>Why is he still here? He wanders aimlessly; sometimes a street here, a block there. But he doesn't stay away from 413 for too long. A lot of people come there, now. Come and go. Many of them are grown-ups, with clipboards and gloves and taking notes and everything. None of them look very happy.<p>

In this jaded, cold, unforgiving world, who would be?

They opened the closet, he knows. They covered it with a big, white sheet like the ghost costume he had for Halloween a long time ago. But this blanket doesn't have holes.

Not like ghosts have holes anyways.

But what really upsets him is how they search through his boxes and notebooks and everything. Those are his stuff, but they don't listen to him; no one does. They read out his writings. They turn over the pages. They listen to the voicemails, repeatedly.

They don't touch anything with their bare hands, though. They must be afraid to get their hands dirty, to wear rubber gloves all the time.

He is very surprised when one of the grown-ups starts to cry. Why do they cry? Surely they're not crying for _him_?

That would be ludicrous.

He shrugs, and drifts away. Maybe he'll come back when all these grown-ups are gone out of his home.

It's stopped snowing now. White, white everywhere, just like him. Except for the roads where the cars are; the snow is brown and black, like sludge. Gross. He walks across the street. A truck races across the road, horn blaring. He stops and stares at it curiously. The truck rushes by, and after a while he continues to walk on.

He wishes he could go back to his dreams again. Then he remembers that whatever he wishes for doesn't matter.

It takes a long time, but they slowly go, one by one. The people are gone from 413, but the fools have taken everything with them. His laptop? Okay. His fridge? Sure, he never used it anyway. His toothbrush? Fine. His couch? Whatever. But his bed! And headphones! His place is now stripped bare. Will new tenants take over?

His neighbours watch the last boxes of his stuff roll away.

"He sounded like a nice kid." She remarks.

"I know." Cael pats her shoulder. "I wish we could've known him better. We would've helped him, Lu."

"Whoever comes here next, we're gonna welcome them properly this time. Triple-layer strawberry shortcake with oolong tea, you hear?"

"Isn't that what _you_ want? What if he was allergic to strawberries?"

"Hmph."

He almost smiles. Maybe his hipster neighbours are not so bad after all. Then he remembers that it's too late, and his smile fades. There's no place for him now, even in Unit 413 of 1500 Bladen Street. He drifts out. Now where is he going to go?

He remembers his university's motto: _Crescam et Lucebo._I shall grow and I shall shine. He was shrinking and rusting. Oh the irony.

All the same, he eventually meanders his way to school. Snow coats the roofs as more continue to fall in little heaps, floating through him.

Time flies.

News spread like wildfire. Soon enough, almost everybody on campus and the general neighbourhood knows his name, who he was, and how he's gone.

He hears his name a lot as he walks through the hallways. Some whisper, others talk loudly as if he isn't there. Many speak of him with regret, maybe a little guilt, and wistfully wish they had gotten to know him better, to prevent this tragedy from happening.

It almost breaks him to hear these pitying, compassionate words from people he wished he could have talked to. Almost, because no one was this caring when he was still alive; it is because he is dead that people are now listening.

He wonders if anyone will show up to the funeral.

* * *

><p>Aisha wears her guilt like a noose.<p>

She thought he was living a better life than her. She thought he was happier, richer, and everything she lacked. It was true that she struggled with money problems, but she never had a shortage of love, comfort, security, and kind smiles…

Standing among many people, wearing her mother's black sweater and skirt, she stubbornly remains dry-eyed during the service. But inside, it's like her heart is heavy as a whale. Beside her are Lowell and so many other students whose names she cannot place at the moment…

Because she was the last person who talked with him, they had asked her many questions. She is stricken with remorse for not having seen the signs. She is furious with herself for not taking the risk, to talk to him more, to hug him, to comfort him and tell him that he had this many supporters. They said it's not her fault. His…his notes…they said, his sporadic journal entries said that she was a good friend to him.

She wonders if there could have been a chance that they could have been…more. Now she will never know. All because of her stupid, stupid selfishness; she was a pathetic excuse of a friend to him. She wants to apologize. She wants to turn back the clock so she could pull him back.

Her wishes and regrets, like the wishes and regrets of the many others, all ring uselessly now.

Because she was the last person who talked with him, she is singled out from the other students. She gets a closer look at his family, everything she barely knew. After the service, they call her over. She meets all his relatives. She talks for a long time with them. She sees his Aunt Helen break down. She listens to stories of him as a boy from Uncle Adams. She witnesses Aunt Bertha apologizing to her nephew's remains.

However, none of them yank at her heart strings as his elder sister does.

Aisha can see their resemblance almost immediately. Same vibrant hair, hers held in a braided loop and pinned by a black ribbon. Same brilliant eyes, hers distorted in boundless sorrow. She helped lower the coffin into its eternal resting place. Her face remains consistently unreadable as everyone leaves, accepting condolences both genuine and complimentary, till it's just her relatives and Aisha.

"Heard you were his closest friend." Even her voice is rough as she examines her. "Aisha, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am." She replies. "Since high school."

"Don't call me ma'am." The elder waves it off. "I heard a bit about you. Guess he never told you about me?"

"I…I don't think he told anyone about his family much." Aisha resists calling her 'ma'am'. "He must have loved you a lot though, ma'am." Shit, she did it again.

Her composure cracks. "No…I failed him." Memories slap into her mind like unwanted ghosts, and she sees his crying face, pleading for her not to leave him alone. She sees airport doors shut behind his tear-filled smile as she makes her way to her flight. He's smiling, don't let him see how much you miss him, because otherwise, he won't have enough to eat…he has to go to university, so he won't have to work hard as you have to…you can't visit him, every airplane ticket is a bundle of money that needs to go to tuition…he understands, so you have to keep working, for him…

"You loved him."

_N__ū__na, please don't go. Please don't leave me alone. Don't abandon me._

_I'm sorry, little brother. Be good. Be safe. I'll be back soon. I love you._

_N__ū__na, please come home…_

Whatever guilt Aisha holds, it **pales** in comparison to the weight of grief on his sister. Her eyes hold a wretched look, like a tortured beast. She was his guardian, protector, sister, and parent. And now she realizes that she has failed. There were times, yes, that she wanted to be more than just an older sister. She wanted to be free of that responsibility sometimes. She feels like she has indirectly guided her little brother to that path. She feels like a monster, a failure. She feels like she should be dead, not him.

"I do."

Aisha looks up, noting the tremble in her voice. The crimson eyes are shining, her composure further slipping.

"I loved him, and he died not knowing it."

* * *

><p>He wishes he could cry.<p>

They play his favourite song, softly, so as to make it a final lullaby. Every word rings through him, each tender note slamming into him, reminding him. He can see himself becoming whiter by the moment. Soon, he will completely disappear, just like he had wanted.

_Drop to my face_

But he wants to stay. He wants to lift up his sister, who kneels before his grave, begging heartbreakingly for forgiveness. He wants to tell Aisha that she _was_ his friend, and that maybe they _could_ have been something more. He wished for it, but he was afraid that he would cross over the line by assuming so.

_Falling Rain_

He sees the flowers, the Christmas gifts he was supposed to have. Renata had sent him a gift/souvenir from Sander, a Rune charm that supposedly gave its wearer protection. Aisha had bought him a Knight figurine, complete with armour and sword. His sister places it before his tombstone, along with the plane ticket she had sent him. All these presents, their tears…they're for him. All of them, even Aisha now, they're crying for him.

But he can't cry anymore, even though Aunt Bertha said that it's okay to cry now.

_Now__my tears are dry, so cry instead of me_

He hugs his sister, not caring that his arms go right through her. He can barely trace the outlines of his hands. Soon, he will completely disappear. He wants more time. He pretends he can feel her warm arms around him, even though she will never know that he is there.

His vision is blurring. He is fading away.

_Please wash away all the happy moments_

"I'm sorry!" He reaches out to them. He doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want to disappear. His silent voice rings desperately. "I'm sorry, please—"

_My memories are full of hurt, please wash away everything_

A cold blast of wind whips through the cemetery.

_Falling Rain_

Merry Christmas.


End file.
